Fanfic:The Art of the Hunt/Prologue
The Professor's Prologue- Number 1... Dragonbane Walk... The Valley... Tanjia... Tanzia Region... Moga... The year 750... The Third Age of the world. My dear folk... You have often asked me, "how EVER did you get a spot on Dragonbane Walk, old one?" And now... It is time for you to know. I was young once; and I was the captain of a team of student hunters. In this days, I was called simply "The Professor", and I taught them all that the Guild could teach them about monsters, their wily ways, their many colors; and I taught them about lands. Oh, the lands! They were wonderful... I loved taking trips to see them, and watch their nature and life; ever did I long for the next journey. The tale I will tell you is one that is, perhaps, still happening; my part, at least, has not ended yet. On we go... ---- -The Author's Prologue- I will say first and foremost that it is with loving, painstaking care that I tell this tale; and I will put more care into it than I have a great many things past. It has been said of me that I am careless, and a rather bad writer; but with this tale, I hope to change things. Now I shall cover the events of my tale. This is the 750th year, as you have hopefully already read, of the Third Age of the World of Moga; and by now, many lands have been explored, and Doragokuni has been shut off to any entrance in the past five hundred years. Only a few can come in and stay every year; and though the Limestaen protect it, they are no longer to be seen to most, and hide themselves, protecting the land in secret. All memory of the times of The Ancient Strife have been forgotten; not even the oldest and best Loremaster can remember them, though signs of the events can be found everywhere in the world. Most memory of even The Moga Knight Trilogy's events have been forgotten, too, although the descendants of the Heroes are still to be found in the world, and they remember the events as well as can be managed... No more true magic is to be found in the world. With Fatalithe's permanent sealing and hopeful death, darkness has lost much of its collective, physical power; shadows, perhaps, are all that are left of the old element; and with his sealing, Fyrulosor, Elrasil, and all other such magical beings--including things like Helioroth, Vodelektrina, and the Spirituals of the Kurai tribe--have departed the world. Because of this, much of the magic that was in the world, and usable by any with the strength, is gone and spent; and no more can a mere mortal call upon them. Though the line of the Monster Warriors continues forth, their lifespan has shortened to a mere 150 years--and that is quite old and very impressive for any still. The Monster Warrior's descendants are few; and only two of them, which are descended parent to child in true line to the Twins borne of Jon and Tayler, are in this story. The Descendants are scattered about the lands. I have my dearest hopes that you will love and respect this story as well as you can; and I wish you all my dearest thanks. Category:Fan Fiction